


Pining

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Because Bad Coping Mechanisms, Casual Suicide Jokes, Mentions of Interface in Dialogue, Multi, Mutual Pining, Paintball, Pining, Play Wrestling, Polyamory, fluff and angst and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: “If I’ve learned anything, good lookin’, it’s that nothing brings mecha together better than fighting together. Except maybe fighting each other. Either way we come out winners.”Whirl drags Swerve into a scheme to get Tailgate and Cyclonus together, but impossible crushes make everything more complicated.





	Pining

**Author's Note:**

> Commission fic for Semianonymity on tumblr! She asked for the OT4 with pining, and ho boy do I love these boys and I love pining.

“Ok, but they’re a couple of complete idiots, right?”

Swerve looked up from the drink he was mixing to flash a confused smile at Whirl, already chuckling even though he wasn’t sure what about.

“Who?” he asked, quickly scanning the room to look for troublemakers. Skids, Brainstorm, and Nautica debating up a storm in one booth, Ratchet and Rung having quiet conversation in another, Chromedome and Rewind gathering a crowd as they were no doubt showing off Rewind’s ability to recognize transformation sounds and gleaning some shanix from overcharged crewmembers who doubted them—

Whirl’s claw closed on the sides of Swerve’s helm and turned it towards the corner.

“Those disgusting love birds.”

“Oh,” Swerve managed before a genuine huff of his vents escaped.

Tailgate had taken the two drinks that Swerve had moments before made for him and already placed them on the table between him and Cyclonus. Both drinks had curly straws poking out of them, and given the way that Tailgate was gesturing at Cyclonus, visor flashing with playful glee, he was no doubt trying to get Cyclonus to use his. The frown that Cyclonus was giving him was quickly softening before Swerve’s very visor.

It was sweet enough that Swerve felt his spark pulse a little faster. Tailgate’s mischief was always cute enough to make him smile, and Cyclonus’s soft side made his spark ache a bit–

“Yeah, they’re something alright,” Swerve managed, returning his gaze to Whirl as he shrugged and went back to finishing the drink in his servos. “It was funny when everyone but Ultra Magnus was betting on when they’d finally clinch it, but at this point nobody is making money because no one in their right mind would have thought they could put it off this long.”

“I had the last betting slot,” Whirl confirmed, claws clacking as they settled on the bar. His optic was still squarely focused on the couple. “They all called me an idiot, but I knew what I was doing. I knew these chucklefrags would take forever. But _this_?” Whirl flung his arm out dramatically, helm turned to stare Swerve right in the visor, sounding completely serious as he spoke. “Someday soon I’m gonna just slam my misshapen head into this bar until I offline myself just to escape this ‘will they won’t they’ hell.”

Swerve found himself caught between laughing and hoping desperately that no one else in the bar noticed them as he leaned closer to speak quietly.

“Not if I beat you to it,” he joked. As soon as it was out though, Swerve regretted it. After the Swearth incident, comments like that simply didn’t work the way it did when other mecha made them, and just garnered him uncomfortable pitying comments.

But Whirl actually snickered as he replied, “You already had your chance at offing yourself, so be a pal and give somebody else a chance, would ya?”

Rung wouldn’t have approved, called it bad coping, and it was, for sure. But Swerve felt his spark ease at the pitiless honesty of Whirl’s humor.

“Not if you’re gonna do it here in the bar.”

“What if I hire somebody ahead of time to clean up afterwards? You don’t have to even be here, just drop the keys in my capable claws and it will all be over before you know it.”

“No!” Swerve laughed, picking up a towel to smack Whirl on the shoulder with. “How would I get by without one of my best customers?”

“Wooooow, you mean it? Because last I heard, me strolling in here has a one in five chance of violent chaos, which doesn’t a ‘best’ customer make.”

“One in eleven,” Swerve corrected as he finished the drink. “Which means you spend just enough on engex to make up for the times you wreck the place.”

“Wreckers are what we are, even exes.” Before Swerve had even realized what was happening, the drink was plucked out of his servos by Whirl’s claw. It was already well within the copter’s grip and Whirl’s intake clicked open.

“H-hey! That’s not yours!”

“I thought I was your best customer!” Whirl jeered, snickering when Swerve reached out towards him and batting his servos away. While Swerve had proportionally large servos given his minibot frame, there were few bots who could give Whirl’s pinchers a run for their money.

“One of them! And now I’m changing my mind!” Swerve caught his lip between his dentae as Whirl’s optic was trained right on him and his claw tipped the drink until a splash of the liquid dribbled into his funnel-like intake where it jutted out from his neck.

Swerve slumped a bit, exasperated and irritated, but not truly mad.

Whirl’s helm tilted to one side, optic cycling as if he was thinking deeply on the drink.

“Hmm. Yeah, no, you’re right. This drink isn’t mine,” Whirl agreed, casual as could be as he placed the glass back on the bar.

Swerve shook his helm with a bemused ex-vent as he pushed the drink back towards Whirl and reached for a new glass. “Well, it’s yours now, buddy. And don’t think I’m not adding it to your tab.”

“But I don’t even like it!” Whirl whined, clacking his pinchers at the offending glass.

“You told me yourself that you can’t even taste them,” Swerve reminded him as he went about mixing the same drink again for its rightful customer.

“True, but I can still tell how strong a drink is, and that? That’s a drink better suited for cute little minibots like you.”

Swerve’s visor flashed as his face heated, and his servos paused in their movement. Unfortunately, that moment was when he was pouring the sweet additive, and that second was all it took to take the drink from sweet to sickening. Swerve jerked to his senses and cursed as he took in the damage.

Yeah, no. The drink was a goner.

Whirl’s optic was bright with mischief.

“Well, well, look who’s easy to fluster. I’m so going to take advantage of that.”

Swerve frowned as he tried to decide what to do with his mess, if just so he could ignore the way he was definitely hot to the touch now. It was unsalvageable taste-wise. But Primus, he did _not_ want to start the drink again.

He peeked over at the drink that Whirl had stolen. Other than the first gulp of it, it was untouched.

Nodding, Swerve grabbed a mid-tier engex to fill up the disaster drink and swapped it for original drink. All it took was a decorative jelly treat thrown in to sink to the bottom to have the drink topped off again.

“Whoa, hold on! That’s mine!”

“You didn’t even like it _and_ you can’t taste anyway, so where’s the harm,” Swerve replied, trying for chiding but he couldn’t help grinning at the way Whirl huffed indignantly. “Sorry, but you’ll just have to live with your mistakes.”

“Only because _you_ won’t let me use your bar for my dark purposes,” Whirl quipped.

It really was a near thing as Swerve burst out laughing, clutching the drink to his chassis so it wouldn’t spill.

“Frag, Whirl, you’re awful!” he managed between wheezing in-vents and Whirl cackled in response.

“ _You’re_ the one laughing at my joke, sicko!”

Swerve had planned on delivering the drink himself, but he was nearly bent in half as Whirl continued with his rambling complaints, so he finally just settled it on the service drone and sent it on its way.

“Just be a good customer and drink your drink,” Swerve said as he opened his vents to air out the heat of his frame now that he could blame it on the laughing.

“I don’t want your frag up.”

“It’s at least twice as strong as the other one.”

Whirl’s optic brightened and the drink was clutched between his pincers instantly.

“Why didn’t you say so, cutie? Love your frag ups. They’re the best.”

Swerve’s spark clenched tight in his chest and it was all he could do to keep his cooling fans from turning on. “You know, I think I like it better when you’re joking about how fragged up we are. At least then I know you’re being honest, you know?”

“I’m always honest,” Whirl insisted as he poured the drink into his intake funnel. “Be it about how fragged up we all are or loving your adorable mistakes, I’m always one hundred percent, and don’t you forget it.”

Once the whole glass had been emptied, Whirl imitated a lip-smacking sound and “ahh” before slamming the glass on the counter. “And that’s why you’re gonna believe me when I tell you that we’re going to get those fragwits together. Because that?” His arm gestured back at the table where Tailgate and Cyclonus sat, and even Swerve had to groan as he watched Cyclonus make a face, trying to drink through the straw before finally shaking his head and Tailgate was giggling loud enough for the whole bar to hear as he nodded insistently and swatted at Cyclonus’s servos when he tried to remove the straw. They were both so cute it was unbearable, and between that and Whirl’s comments, Swerve was pretty sure his spark had swelled enough to choke him. “They are _not_ allowed to do that and _not_ be dating. It’s like a terrible Schrödinger’s trap, because they’re so disgustingly cute that you can’t decide if want them to smooch each other or you, you know? I don’t even have a mouth and it’s driving me mad!”

Swerve had his servos braced on the bar surface and leaned in close before he could even think twice, whispering fervently, “ _Yes_. I thought it was just me, but that’s exactly it, right? You want them together because they’d be so good together, but also like, then they’d be off the market so you can finally stop going down ‘what if’ paths in your head.”

“I could finally recharge at night not thinking about how to trick them into thinking I’m worth joining for a tumble in my berth,” Whirl agreed, his optic twisting into his own facsimile of a smirk. “Can move on to tricking them _both_ into it, am I right?”

Swerve’s face felt like it was on fire, his servos twisting together as he felt his grin wobble.

“I mean, I can’t really say you’re _wrong_ –”

Whirl’s pincer was surprisingly gentle when it settled on Swerve’s shoulder, giving his tire a supportive squeeze.

“Then let’s get those idiots together.”

* * *

Overwhelming excitement kept Swerve up that night, and he blamed it completely and totally on the fact that he had been invited to help in a romantic scheme. Hell, he had been dragged into it really! Whirl insisted that he needed his help, and that thought alone made Swerve feel light as a feather.

Alright, maybe he should have been a little concerned that it was a plan concocted by _Whirl_. And truthfully, he had been at first when Whirl had pushed out of his seat abruptly and told Swerve that he’d be by his habsuite after the bar closed for further details, his helm turning this way and that, as if watching out for anyone eavesdropping on them. At first Swerve had thought it sort of paranoid, but the way that Rewind had ever so slightly followed Whirl’s departure from the bar, and then _ever_ so casually went up to the bar to ask what the two had been laughing so much about, made it clear that no. It wasn’t paranoid.

Secrets were hard to keep on the Lost Light.

By the time that Swerve had shut down for the night and was heading back to his room, anxiety was starting to get the better of him. What if it was all just a prank? A joke at his expense? Everyone on the ship knew his love for situational shenanigans so it would have been far too easy to take advantage of that to mess with him.

But Whirl had been there waiting for him.

And once the door was shut they had, for lack of a better word, conspired together.

Whirl immediately started explaining to Swerve that Brainstorm had been working on a secret project that had actually managed to get even Ultra Magnus’s approval. For the time being it was just a simple enough battle simulation arena, though Brainstorm already had add-ons in mind to make it more exciting.

As Whirl described it though, Swerve quickly laughed and interrupted, saying, “You mean paintball? Brainstorm is making a paintball arena?”

Whirl’s optic brightened.

“Oh, he finished it.”

It was for ‘stress relief’ and working through ‘trauma’ – both rung true to Swerve, but he let Whirl have his quotation marks – but really, it was the perfect solution to their problem.

“If I’ve learned anything, good lookin’, it’s that nothing brings mecha together better than fighting together. Except maybe fighting each other. Either way we come out winners.”

Swerve was doing his absolute best to ignore every petname that Whirl had decided to start dropping. It was better to ignore Whirl’s long-running gags and wait until he grew bored of them himself.

But they had ended up sitting next to each other on Swerve’s berth since there wasn’t really any other furniture to sit on except the other empty berth in the room and Whirl had chosen to sit next to Swerve on his instead, and Swerve had no idea how to even begin to question it. And at that point they were at ease, and Whirl had even fallen back against the berth so his claws were waving around above him, and it was all very–

Well. It was hard to ignore how nice it was.

The plan was simple enough. Swerve and Whirl would challenge Cyclonus and Tailgate to a match, and in doing so force the two to communicate and work together to win. Once they started talking and collaborating and had the rush of battle success pumping through their sparks, it was just a hop and a skip for them to finally divulge their feelings to each other and “hump like turborabbits” as Whirl had insisted on putting it.

Swerve had worried about all the pitfalls therein, but Whirl had been adamant.

Whirl was certain they would take up the challenge.

“Cyclonus might not be interested, but Tailgate? He’s a feisty one. He’ll absolutely get into the competitive spirit. And we both know that for all his huffing, Cyclonus will give in. Hell, I don’t mind badgering him if he needs the extra push. It’d be my pleasure.”

Whirl was certain that they would work together.

“Look, Cyclonus may be good and Tailgate unexperienced, but it would kill Tailgate if he had to let that lug take all the glory. That little guy is gonna throw himself into it, and Cyclonus is gonna have to figure out how to work with him or else trip over him constantly and lose it. Plus, he’s going up against yours truly. He’s gonna need help.”

And Whirl was certain that Swerve was important.

"Look, I get it, I get it. You have the slagging worst aim of anyone on this ship. But I have that side of things handled. You’re there because I need your big mouth along with mine to really rile them up. Plus let’s be honest here, Cyclonus is so fragging weak against helpless minibots. You’ll handicap him with your adorable face and complete lack of ability to hit anything smaller than a wall. And if things turn sideways, it’ll only go well for you if he decides to go for a different cute minibot, you feel me, beautiful?”

“But–”

“Besides, who the frag else is crazy enough to team up with me?”

It was a ridiculous idea, but it was so _fun_ and Swerve’s spark felt full enough to burst.

And if Swerve and Whirl just ended up ranting and raving about the two bots well into the night, well. At least they couldn’t judge each other for their shared crushes.

This was totally going to work.

* * *

This wasn’t going to work.

Oh, sure, they had agreed to the match. Swerve had made the first move by telling Tailgate about how he had found out about the new paintball arena that would be opening soon, and how Whirl had dragged him into a two-mech team, so they were looking for a pair to battle.

Tailgate had easily agreed, practically bouncing in his seat as he talked about how much fun it would be, and that he and Cyclonus could definitely take them on! The other minibot had nearly made a dash to find Cyclonus and tell him right then and there, but he stopped half a step away and spun on his heel, his visor bright but the light band narrowed as he focused on Swerve.

“Whirl, huh? I did notice you two getting along reeeeeally well last night, and Rewind told me that Whirl left your habsuite this morning. Was that just paintball plotting or–?”

Swerve had turned red hot as he stammered out that it was just a friendly affair, no _no_ not _that_ type of affair, just hanging out!

Tailgate’s giggles were heavenly as he patted Swerve’s servo and assured him that they would be cute, even if Whirl _was_ a handful.

“Or, well, maybe even because he is, right? He’s intimidating, but it’s always exciting with Whirl around. I’ve always kind of wanted to spend more time with him, you know? You should invite me next time you have a ‘friendly’ hangout.”

When Swerve had later told Whirl that, the copter had made a dismissive snorting noise, but Swerve was pretty sure it was meant to hide how flustered the information made him. A light touch to Whirl’s hip, disguised as a friendly gesture when Swerve turned the tables to tease Whirl, revealed how warm he had become to the touch.

Swerve purposely avoided mentioning that Tailgate had taken ahold of his servos while insisting that the battle would be so much fun, that he had to go tell Cyclonus but that later they should hang out, maybe go to the shooting range to practice together since neither of them were great shots, and Swerve had felt like he was walking on cloud nine for a good hour afterwards.

And oh, sure, Cyclonus had agreed to the match after approaching Swerve during a shared break, his face stern as he asked Swerve if he had been bullied into it by Whirl. His concern had Swerve choked up, and his large servo on Swerve’s shoulder was so nice, simultaneously calming and exciting. And when Swerve had assured him that no, he wasn’t being forced, that he was actually as excited about it as Whirl was, the corner of Cyclonus’s lips had curled as he nodded, relieved.

And within the hour Cyclonus had tracked Whirl down and the two had had one of their glaring matches as he told the copter that he accepted his challenge. Thankfully Rewind had been there and was eager to share the video with Swerve and Tailgate over their evening energon.

Swerve didn’t really get warrior types. He didn’t get the glaring, the snippy back and forth, the unspoken challenges. But Whirl’s optic had been bright and the right shade of excited, and Cyclonus’s lips curled into an almost eager smirk when he had turned and stalked away.

It was with the flutter in his spark that Swerve realized what a terrible mess he had found himself in.

Sure, the scheme was on track.

But now two impossible crushes had become three impossible crushes.

And spending that evening at the shooting range with Tailgate and quickly joined by Cyclonus and Whirl who insisted on helping their respective teammates, and then the opposing teammates when they were sure the other was teaching them wrong, surrounded by Tailgate’s bubbly laughs and Cyclonus’s calming touches and Whirl’s boundless energy—

How could this plan possibly work when Swerve was already feeling crushed by the pressure of his pounding spark and the knowledge that it was soon going to break under it all? All he wanted to do was hide away in his habsuite until the whole thing had passed.

But the day came, and Whirl was knocking on his door bright and early, his optic twisted into a half-moon smile as he said they should get in one last practice session before the game.

And it was hard to say no when Swerve had come to love the solid touch of claws on his shoulders.

* * *

“Look, it’s pretty simple. You aim the gun, you hit the other team, it leaves a big splotch of paint, and afterwards I use my scanner here to tally which of you got hit the most and thus loses,” Brainstorm explained quickly, practically bouncing on his pedes. Somehow Whirl had managed to convince the scientist that their challenge should be the test run of the battle simulation, so it was no wonder the scientist was so excited to get started. “Best of three rounds wins. Any questions? Great!”

And he was off like a shot, leaving the four bots to face each other. Whirl’s engines were purring with glee and Tailgate’s visor was blindingly bright. Even Cyclonus couldn’t keep his face completely neutral.

And despite himself, Swerve grinned too. He was filled to bursting with nervous energy, and honestly couldn’t really separate out the bad from the good anymore, so he just leaned into the excitement of the others.

“Better hold on to your afts,” Whirl said as he hefted his gun up onto his shoulder. It had been customized to fit his pincers, and was large to hold a large number of the paint pellets inside. When he cocked his hip, the belt around it wobbled, filled with more paint pellets should he need to reload. The same belt was on the rest of them, though for Swerve it was magnetized since he did not have the sort of waistline necessary to keep a belt from falling to his pedes.

As they had practiced, Swerve hefted his gun too, resting it on his opposite shoulder so that they mirrored each other.

“Because we’re about to hand them to you,” Swerve continued, and alright. It was so, so dumb and goofy. He had known it was goofy when they came up with it together, but Swerve hadn’t fully realized how dumb it was. But it seemed to be just the right kind as Tailgate made a ‘pfft’ sound and tugged at Cyclonus’s servo.

“Oh yeah?! Well, you better watch out, because we’re the ones who are gonna get your afts!”

Swerve watched as Cyclonus’s optics slowly offlined, completely aware of how Tailgate’s words sounded and just waiting for—

Whirl _cackled_. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased before reaching down and hooking his arm around Swerve, lifting him without preamble. Swerve yelped as Whirl turned on his pede, waving his servo as he headed towards their starting point. “If you want ‘em, you’re gonna have to come and get them!”

And off Whirl ran with Swerve under his arm, ignoring the way that Swerve was protesting as he wiggled in his grip. “Come on, Whirl, put me down!”

“But I like carrying you,” Whirl replied, his voice still just on the side of too loud, utterly revved up and filled with boundless energy. “You’re the perfect size! And frag, this is gonna be so good, babe, it’s gonna be awesome!”

“Whiiiirl,” Swerve whined with another wiggle. “You can’t do this whole fight with me under your arm!”

“That sounds an awful lot like a challenge,” Whirl teased, but he did finally stop and put Swerve down so he had his own pedes under him again. “But we have more important challenges right now. You ready to force their servos together in loving courtship?”

“Yeah, of course,” Swerve replied distractedly as he shifted his gun between his servos, getting a good grip on it.

Whirl’s optic was suddenly in his face, so close that the little prongs beneath his optic were practically touching each side of his face.

“You don’t really sound ready to me.”

Swerve swallowed down a moment of panic before forcing his lips into a wide smile.

“Are you kidding? Of course I am! I’ve been dying to see those two together for ages! I’m so ready!”

The optic band narrowed at Swerve.

“You sure?”

“Yeah!”

Whirl didn’t look completely convinced, but moved away. And not a moment too soon, considering how Swerve’s frame had started to heat up and his spark race in his chest. Swerve would have thought that lacking a mouth or even face plate would make being so close face-to-face less intimate feeling, but oh, Primus, he had been so wrong.

The quiet question of how best to kiss Whirl was soundly shoved deep, deep down and ignored.

“Alright.” Whirl straightened completely, dropping his gun from where it was rest on his shoulder so that he now held it with both of his claws. “Then let’s get this party started!”

* * *

The two had already plotted their action plan. Divide and conquer came first, with Whirl aiming for Cyclonus and leaving Tailgate for Swerve to handle. Whirl was confident he could take Cyclonus on and beat him, and that sure, Swerve had terrible aim, but he had more experience with a gun than Tailgate did. They could one-two blast them out of the water, which would lead them towards working together more closely.

Closely being the operative word.

So once the buzzer went off signaling the start of the match, Swerve moved from one shelter to the next, glancing around walls and over short barriers as he went. Whirl wasn’t nearly so subtle, instead just hurtling over and around obstacles as he crowed Cyclonus’s name.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

A warning shot was all it took for Whirl to tuck and roll behind a wall, and he was gone. Swerve tried to jog ahead and see where he went, but it was impossible as he turned his helm this way and that, trying to find him. The only suggestion of his location was the echoing of more shots, but they were way off to Swerve’s left, and they were sporadic, almost too similar to the gun fights that Swerve had overheard during the war.

There was no doubt that Cyclonus had already zeroed in on him and they were engaged in a battle as true to war style as one could get when the bullets were made of paint. Trying to circle each other and surprise one another, the whole thing. Whirl was surely enjoying himself, and maybe Cyclonus was as well, considering the eager look that had been on his face and was now permanently etched into Swerve’s mind from the recording of Whirl’s challenge.

That line of thought was gone in an instant though when a paintball whizzed past Swerve’s face. He stumbled back, but he was too slow to find cover as a second shot went too far behind, but the third hit him square in the visor. Swerve’s vision was just a splatter of bright green with bits and pieces visible around the sides.

Swerve cursed as he finally made a run for it, lifting his free servo to his face so that he could try to wiggle his visor free. It had been ages since he had removed the piece though, even for just regular maintenance because who really followed maintenance for visors? But now he was regretting it as he bumped into the corner of a wall, yelping as he did. There was no way he could manage anything while running, so he felt his way around the structure and flopped onto his aft with his back against the wall. Swerve tried to wipe the paint away, but to no avail – it had dried almost instantly, no doubt to keep participants from cheating by trying to hide any hits they took.

“Swerve?! Are you ok?”

Swerve stiffened at Tailgate’s voice. Of course it had been the other minibot that had shot him – there was no way that Cyclonus would have missed the first two shots, and he wouldn’t have aimed for Swerve’s visor.

After a moment chewing on his bottom lip while wiggling his visor, trying hard to get it to move but proving unsuccessful, Swerve finally replied, “I’m fine! Just can’t see through my visor now!”

“Where are you? I can help!”

Whirl was gonna kill him for not taking the fight seriously, but Swerve really was having difficulties with his visor, and surely Tailgate would be able to help as a fellow mech with a visor. Maybe together they could wiggle it free. Swerve wasn’t especially excited to walk around without it, but maybe he could clean it real quick between matches.

His spark clenched tight because fraggit, he was letting Whirl down!

But still, he reached his servo back towards the corner of the wall and waved past it, and shouted, “Over here! Can you see me?”

“Where—oh! Yeah, hold on!”

Swerve sighed in relief as Tailgate jogged past the periphery of his vision, aka the only part of his vision he had now, and knelt down beside him. “I really got you good, huh?” Tailgate said, sounding pleased with himself as he moved in close, though Swerve couldn’t actually see him at the moment. “Do you have optics under there?”

“Yeah, I do. But the latches are sticking.”

“Hold on, I’ll see what I can do.”

Without preamble, Tailgate straddled Swerve’s lap and his digits went to work gently pulling and pushing and wiggling Swerve’s visor, no doubt getting a feel for the latches and where they were stuck. And thank Primus that Tailgate was focused, because Swerve’s attention was shattered as he fought against squirming under his friend’s close attention and closer frame. It was a blessing that he couldn’t see in front of him, because seeing Tailgate right now when they were sitting like this—

“Ok, ok, hold on, I got it–”

With a slow but steady pull, Swerve felt the metal pieces finally slide against each other, and it only took one last tug to pull the visor free.

Swerve winced and offlined his optics immediately because Primus, it was bright! He had forgotten in his flustered state to change his optic settings. It took digging through his processor, but the old settings were still there and took only a second to implement.

Blinking his optics online revealed Tailgate, visor in one servo and his gun in the other. The gun was even aimed at Swerve, ready to take advantage of Swerve in his moment of weakness—

But instead the other minibot was just sort of staring at him, transfixed.

Swerve’s spark squirmed, unable to handle any of the implications of this situation – his friend straddling him and staring at his bare face, so distracted that he forgot his prank—

So instead he just picked up his own gun and shot Tailgate point-blank in the middle of his chest, getting at least three or four hits in while the other minibot yelped and startled out of his distraction. Tailgate tumbled over backwards on Swerve’s legs, complaining between snickers – “Hey, I was helping you!” “You had your gun aimed at me too!” “And you stole my idea!” – while Swerve reached out to try to take his visor back.

The two of them ended up in a rolling sprawl of wrestling limbs and occasionally trying to fire off shots at each other, more of the paint getting on their frames from rolling onto freshly burst paintballs than any that actually hit each other.

And despite himself, Swerve laughed along with Tailgate, his face hurting from how widely he smiled.

* * *

“I cannot believe how useless you are.”

“He hit my visor! I couldn’t see!” Swerve protested as he scrubbed his visor with the cleaning solution Brainstorm had given him after Whirl had insisted he wouldn’t continue the matches until his teammate have his vision normal again. The protectiveness of the action had warmed Swerve’s spark, but once the solution was in his servo, Whirl had turned on him.

Thankfully it wasn’t anger he held so much as exasperation.

“So you told him where you were so you could play wrestle with him?”

“So he could help me get the visor off,” Swerve corrected. He squinted as he looked at the visor, focusing on the task instead of the whirlwind of his spark. “And _I_ took the chance to shoot him. He’s the one who tackled me, and – and how could I resist?”

Whirl hummed, his pincers scratching under his helm.

“A fair point. He may be cute, but he’s also full of mischief and he knows how to use his cuteness to his advantage.”

“I don’t actually think he does know that–”

“That’s what he wants you to think!” Whirl started to pace. “Clearly you aren’t up to the task, so I’ll have to take him on this time around.”

“Hey!” Swerve scrambled to his pedes, lips pursed as he said, “Like you did any better! You and Cyclonus tied, so I was the one who managed to pull out a victory, even if just barely.”

“Which is why you’re gonna take Cyclonus on this time instead.” Whirl spun on his pedes and gestured at Swerve. “Cyc and I are too similar, and same goes for you and Tailgate. So obviously we have to mix it up!”

Swerve’s mouth dropped open.

“But—Cyclonus will wipe the floor with me!”

“But he won’t,” Whirl cooed, bending at his hips and stroking his pincer along Swerve’s cheek. “He’s got the biggest soft spot for cute minibots. So while he takes it easy on you, I’ll swoop in on Tailgate and cinch the next match.”

“But what if he doesn’t take it easy on me?”

Whirl’s helm cocked to one side.

“Well, we’re supposed to lose this one anyway. Just have to make it look like it was close so they give it their all in the third one, you know?”

Swerve could feel the pout on his face before he could stop it.

“You mean that you’re purposely setting me up to lose.”

“But in the most polite and gentlemechly way possible,” Whirl quipped, his optic lens a crescent of a grin.

* * *

“Are you fragging kidding me?” Swerve grumbled as he peeked around a corner. Once the match had begun, Whirl had once against sprinted across the arena, leaping over cover instead of bothering to use it, leaving Swerve to jog from corner to corner, peeking out each time. _Somebody_ had to try to play paintball the way it was supposed to be played.

Within minutes, Swerve heard yelping and cursing up ahead, and he quickened his pace to see if Whirl needed backup. Maybe Cyclonus had gotten to Whirl before the copter could get to Tailgate, catching him off guard in his pursuit, and Whirl could actually use his back up—

The cursing had shifted into howling laughter that was undeniably Tailgate’s and with one look, Swerve spotted the minibot pinned to the ground between Whirl’s spindly legs, servos raised to cover his face while Whirl pelted him with paintball after paintball.

“Stop, that’s not fair! Come on, get off–”

“You started it by jumping me, you little rascal. You think I would be as easy as Swerve, huh?”

Tailgate just laughed more and one of his kicks finally landed at the apex where one of Whirl’s legs met his torso. The copter grunted – “That’s just low!” – and it was distraction enough that Tailgate got another kick in, and once Whirl scooted away, the minibot raised his gun to fire off several shots right at Whirl’s optic.

Alright, so maybe Whirl had a point about Tailgate being more devious than Swerve gave him credit for.

Swerve just ex-vented in exasperation as he watched Whirl, blind and cackling, grab at Tailgate to drag him back into a tumbling sort of wrestling with paintballs flying everywhere.

“I’ll admit that _somebody_ has a weak spot for minibots,” Swerve muttered under his ventilation.

“I think that goes without saying.”

Swerve’s whole frame straightened and his armor clamped tight as he whirled around to find Cyclonus standing beside him, watching with a disinterested expression that didn’t match the brightness of his optics. A quiet, nearly inaudible ex-vent escaped Cyclonus, and it sounded amused as he tilted his face towards Swerve.

Swerve glanced at Cyclonus’s face, down at the warrior’s gun just hanging in his grip at his side, and then back up at his face.

“You’re, uh. You’re not gonna, you know–”

“Not if you don’t make me.”

“Am I the only one who knows how to actually play paintball?” Swerve asked, but it was hypothetical – the answer is apparently a glaring _YES_ – and Cyclonus took it as such. Swerve lifted his gun to rest against his shoulder. “So then what’re we doing here? Sitting back and enjoying the show?”

There was clanking and clamoring on the other side of the wall, and giggling aplenty, but Swerve found he preferred watching Cyclonus’s schooled face, catching the way his optics shimmered and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Unless you had another idea?”

Cyclonus gave him a questioning look and Swerve shrugged.

“I mean, don’t you want to, I dunno, help your partner out there?”

Cyclonus’s optics moved again, his height allowing him to see just over the wall, and Tailgate and Whirl really had to be distracting one another if neither had noticed Cyclonus peering at them over the wall.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Well, sure, but Whirl’s having fun. I don’t want to break that up.”

“Then we’re likeminded.” And alright, there was no denying that _that_ – the curl of both corners of Cyclonus’s lips as he gazed down at Swerve – was a smile. “They appear to be enjoying themselves, and the whole point in this exercise in enjoyment, is it not?”

Swerve was pretty sure his spark was going to burst out of his chest if it didn’t suffocate him first.

“Y-yeah, of course. But you should be having fun too, you know?”

“I am,” Cyclonus stated simply. His optics flashed with something almost dangerous looking as he continued, “Unless you would prefer to do something more similar to that?” with a slight tilt of him helm towards the chaos on the other side of the wall.

“I’m pretty sure that would offline me for good,” Swerve replied with an awkward laugh. If the warrior’s strength didn’t get the deed done, Swerve’s straining spark would probably burn itself out from having Cyclonus that close.

“I can be careful.” Cyclonus, with all the grace in the universe, settled himself to sit on the floor against the wall. He reached a servo out towards Swerve in invitation. “But in truth I would prefer to simply talk.”

“Sure! I mean, we all know how much talking I do all the time anyway, so I can definitely handle–”

Cyclonus’s optics flared and quicker than Swerve could follow, his servo snapped up to grab Swerve and yank him towards the warrior, leaving the minibot to fall into his lap while the wall behind him burst into pieces as Whirl slammed through it. Swerve couldn’t see much as he scrambled, face burning as Cyclonus held him protectively, so all he heard was, “Welp, I sure hope that wasn’t you, Itty Bitty,” Tailgate’s squeal of laughter, and then Whirl sprinting off towards the sound.

Cyclonus’s arms were solid around him, servos large and cool against Swerve’s quickly overheating frame, and if this was how Swerve died, it would be worth it.

* * *

“I cannot believe you.”

Swerve awkwardly held Whirl’s helm in one spot while so, so carefully rubbing the damp cloth against the copter’s optic to remove the paint splattering it. “Stop complaining so I can get this off, would you?”

“I can sit still and complain at the same time, so no,” Whirl insisted. “We’re gonna talk about the fact that you and Cyclonus didn’t even try! Cyclonus I get, but come on! He gave you every opening and you didn’t even think to fire one ball at him? Instead you two just sat there gossiping like a couple of seekers!”

Swerve’s face heated, but he didn’t feel any real regret. Once he had gotten himself out of Cyclonus’s lap, it had been nice to just sit and chat, and to every once in a while comment on how ridiculous Whirl and Tailgate were.

“He suggested it so how could I say no?”

Whirl harrumphed.

“Of course he did. Cute guy like you – why wouldn’t he want to take the chance to chat you up?”

“Th-that’s not what it was,” Swerve insisted, biting down on his lip as he tried to focus on how he was finally getting enough layers of paint off that he could see the glow of Whirl’s optic light up the bright pink paint from behind. “He’s in love with Tailgate, not me.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s blind.”

“Do you ever stop joking?” Another couple of wipes revealed Whirl’s optic directly, bright and wholly focused on Swerve’s face. The minibot swallowed around the sudden anxiety that gripped him and refocused on his task, leaning in close so he could see the streaks still clinging to the glass.

“I’m not right now.”

“Yes you are.”

The light of Whirl’s optic narrowed.

“If you think I won’t physically fight you about this, then you have somehow misread who I am. I _will_ punch your face to prove how cute it is.”

“Whirl–”

“I’m serious–”

“No, I am!” Swerve said louder than he had intended, his voice somehow making it out crystal clear even though his intake felt tight and choked. He removed his servo from Whirl’s optic, his digits squeezing the rag too tightly because oh no, it was all getting to be too much, he could feel everything starting to overflow. If he could just cut this all off before it went further, then they could finish up this final match and Swerve would be free to make a run for it before making an idiot of himself. “I’m serious that you need to stop joking about that, ok? I’m already dealing with a lot of emotions right now and I don’t need pity compliments or–”

“ _Pity_? That’s what you think—primus, you’re a moron.”

Humiliation burned in Swerve’s chest as he tried to step away. “Or jokes or whatever, it’s fine, I just don’t–”

Swerve interrupted himself with a squeak when Whirl’s pincer grasped him by the chin, not allowing him to look away when the copter leaned his optic in close.

“Look, let’s make something clear, Swerve. I don’t do pity. Gave that scrap up a long, _long_ time ago. When I say something, it’s either the truth or it’s a lie that’s funny to me. And sure, sometimes it’s funny to me because I’m a mean mech. But this?” Whirl leaned that much closer and Swerve couldn’t keep his engine from whining with some emotion he couldn’t name. “I’m not gonna be mean about this because I get it. Mecha don’t get more unlovable than me, so _I get it_. Feelings like this _hurt_ , but they’re gonna choose each other and we’re gonna survive that, and we’ll be their friends or whatever, and someday some other mech will be smart enough to choose you, because you, Swerve, are _cute_.”

Swerve’s spark _ached_ and he could feel the corners of his optics burn behind his visor.

“You’re not unlovable,” he whispered, and Whirl faked a snorting noise.

“Now who’s pitying who?” Before Swerve could answer though, Whirl let go of his chin and started to sit back on his pedes to give the minibot space. “Look, just splash some paint back on my optic. I’ll say nobody gets near my optic and the game is over and we’ll get outta here–”

Something broke inside Swerve.

One of his servos reached out to grab the side of Whirl’s helm while the other pressed down on his cockpit, angling it down so that Swerve could lean in close again. Earlier thoughts flooded his processor and yes, there was no way that Swerve could reach the bottom lip of Whirl’s optic casing without the prongs stabbing into Swerve’s cheeks. But the prongs were easy to reach—

Swerve’s lips pressed a hurried kiss against the inner edge of one prong, the other pressed along his cheek.

Whirl was still talking, but his voice quieted further and further, distracted as he finally trailed off.

His optic was blindingly bright.

“Are—are you kissing me?”

Swerve jerked back upright.

“Uh. Maybe?” Swerve managed before sucking his bottom lip between his dentae. His processor was roiling with regret as Whirl stared at him, shell-shocked and confused.

“Why?”

With a painful clench of his spark, Swerve took another step back before forcing a laugh from his vocalizer, ignoring how hollow it sounded. “You know, that’s a great question, and I’ll get back to you with an answer later, but right now I should – I’m just gonna go, I think.”

Whirl’s optic cycled, watching him closely as the copter shifted, ready to stand up, but Swerve was faster. The minibot looked away and while he didn’t run, his steps were quick and his strides as long as his short legs allowed. It was only when he heard Whirl calling after him – “Whoa, whoa, Swerve, hold on!” – that Swerve picked up the pace.

The overhead speaker clicked on and Brainstorm’s voice echoed across the stadium room, “IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT OVER THERE?”

Panic whipped up around the regret and shame that had Swerve in a vice-like grip as he heard Cyclonus and Tailgate shouting questions of concern. No, no, _no,_ Swerve was not prepared to face any of them, needed to just slip away and hide forever—

Cyclonus slid to a stop from behind a barrier in front of Swerve, optics brightening upon seeing him, though the lines of his face were sharp with concern. His mouth opened to ask a question – maybe he asked it, because Swerve would swear that the rushing pulse of energon through his frame was messing with his audials, so maybe he hadn’t even registered the sound – and Swerve just tried to move around him.

“—Swerve, _wait_.”

Swerve hesitated and then Cyclonus’s servo grasped him by the shoulder, solid on his tire, and Swerve felt the cleanser that had flooded over from his optics slip past his visor to streak down his cheek.

And then everything seemed to happen at once.

Tailgate must have been practically at Cyclonus’s heels because he was on Swerve in seconds, wiping the cleanser away while watching Swerve’s face intently, “Hey, hey, are you—what’s wrong? Shh, it’s ok, you’re ok, come here,” and Swerve was too weak to resist the other minibot’s arms wrapping around him in a hug.

“Oh good, you caught him! I gotta talk to Swerve–”

“ _What did you do_?” Cyclonus growled, his frame stomping away from Swerve’s side towards where he had heard Whirl.

“Oh _frag you_. I didn’t do anything. Or at least I don’t think I did – hey, _hey_!”

“WHOA, NO ACTUAL FIGHTING IS ALLOWED IN THERE. MAGNUS WILL KILL ME.”

Swerve jolted, trying to push against Tailgate so he could turn around, stammering, “W-wait! Whirl didn’t do anything, really!”

He was embarrassed by how shaky his voice sounded, even to himself. Even if they couldn’t see his optics, there was no doubt that they all knew by voice alone that Swerve was crying, overwhelmed by a deluge of emotions he no longer had control over.

Whirl and Cyclonus had gone still, the warrior’s servo still tightly hooked into some plating by Whirl’s neck, clearly in the middle of intimidating the copter. Both though were watching Swerve closely though.

Swerve wanted to just melt into the floor right then and there.

Tailgate reached down to grab one of his servos and squeezed it.

“Swerve?”

Swerve bent his helm, staring at the ground as he bit his bottom lip.

“We were trying to get you two together,” he admittedly dejectedly, not daring to look up even when Tailgate’s systems hiccupped. “Y-you – you guys deserve each other, and should be together, and—and Whirl and I made the plan together, and I thought I could handle it, but then I developed a crush on him too, so with all three of you it’s all been a lot to handle, and–”

“A what?” Whirl asked, completely disbelieving.

Beside him, Cyclonus asked, confused, “Too?”

Swerve shuddered and felt another wave of crying threatening to spill over.

But then Tailgate’s servo tightened around Swerve’s and tugged him towards him again, though Swerve refused to look up from the floor.

“I like you too, Swerve.”

The minibot’s helm snapped up, his visor flaring as he gapped at Tailgate, stammering, “What?”

“I like you,” Tailgate repeated as his visor flickered anxiously, his voice aiming for confidence but ending up somewhere around false bravado. The thought that Tailgate was admitting it now to take some pressure off Swerve came and went and Swerve’s spark swelled at the idea. “I have for a while now. That’s actually why I haven’t told Cyclonus that I uh, well.” The other minibot’s trailed off as he glanced over at Cyclonus, and Swerve might have in any other circumstance snickered about how shocked the warrior looked. As it was, he felt almost numb from shock himself, and he wondered if Cyclonus wasn’t in a similar situation. “I didn’t know if that would be ok with you, so I thought it would be better if I didn’t tell you either of you how I felt, and just – I dunno, ignore it I guess?”

Cyclonus’s expression softened. “You thought I would not be happy for you two?” he asked with more vulnerability than Swerve thought possible from Cyclonus.

“No, that’s not – I don’t like _just_ Swerve.”

“He likes you too, idiot,” Whirl muttered, elbowing Cyclonus, and the warrior didn’t even frown at him, in fact nearly looked thankful for the clarification.

This time it was Swerve’s turn to squeeze Tailgate’s servo, and with that boost, Tailgate looked at Cyclonus, his voice wavering a bit as he admitted, “I love you, Cyclonus. A-and I like Swerve. And I didn’t know if that would ruin our friendships or possible relationship or–”

“You thought I’d demand monogamy?” Tailgate nodded and Cyclonus finally took a step away from Whirl and towards the minibots, and then another. Swerve tried to step away as Cyclonus knelt by Tailgate, but Tailgate’s servo held solid as the warrior cradled Tailgate’s helm and leaned in. “I have lived far too long to assume sparks are so limited in their capacity for affection.”

Tailgate’s visor flashed happily. “Soooooo, then do you…?”

“I do.”

Swerve’s spark ached with joy to see Cyclonus press a chaste kiss to the top of Tailgate’s helm. It nearly went into spasms when Cyclonus then glanced at him and his lips curled into a small smirk.

“Besides, it would seem we have similar tastes.”

Tailgate giggled and Swerve felt like he was overheating as he asked, “Wait, really?”

“I fragging told you,” Whirl commented, closer than before but still distanced from the three. “He loves a cute minibot.”

“Not just minibots,” Cyclonus scoffed.

“Who else then?”

Cyclonus ex-vented heavily as he gave Whirl a look. The copter’s optic rebooted once, and then twice, and then glowed wide and bright as he pointed at himself with one of his claws. When Cyclonus didn’t protest, Whirl said, “Wait, really?”

“It’s complicated, but yes.”

“You _are_ super intriguing,” Tailgate agreed, glancing from Cyclonus to Swerve and finally to Whirl. “I mean, I’m interested too, so, you know. I guess we all really do have similar tastes, huh?”

Whirl was, for one of the first times that Swerve had ever seen him, completely motionless.

And something in that moment – Tailgate’s servo intertwined with his own while Cyclonus looked, of all things, abashed by his own admissions of his emotions, and Whirl looked completely and utterly starstruck by the very concept that the three mecha before him were genuinely interested in him – had Swerve’s face splitting into a genuine grin.

“It’s your turn now,” Swerve said, his spark giving a little nervous palpitation as he reached his free servo out towards Whirl. The copter looked at him, optic glowing with something all too akin to nervousness.

But, slowly, the light curled into that giddy crescent that Swerve had come to love.

“We should get the four of us somewhere a little more private if you wanna know what I want to do to the three of you.”

Swerve grinned and grabbed Whirl by the pincer as the four of them made a hasty retreat to Brainstorm’s whining discontent.

“DO ANY OF YOU KNOW HOW TO PLAY FRAGGING PAINTBALL?!”


End file.
